


Holds Two Nicely

by jynzandtonic



Category: Adam Driver Character Universe, The Dead Don't Die (2019)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Ch. 2 will be fem!reader, Established Relationship, F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, Not deepthroating but 'deepthroat-y' if you choose to accept the adjective, Other, Road-Head, Ronnie is a Big Cute Adorable Nerd, Ronnie's going to return the favor, Teasing, The Little Red Smart Car (TM), WOOP WOOP das da sound of da police, two people DO fit in the smart car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynzandtonic/pseuds/jynzandtonic
Summary: AYYYEE it’s the first full Ronnie fic and it’s ROAD HEAD IN THE SMART CAR! 🚗 This morphed from a oneshot to a two-part and it goes from fluffy bullshit to a really graphic blowjob… so there’s that. Sorry I’m not sorry. Also, I’ll have you remember that in my personal Ronnie Retcon AU, you both now live in the tiny town of Sisters, Oregon—because Officer Peterson was just too much of a snack to go down with the rest of Centerville.
Relationships: Ronald Peterson (The Dead Don't Die)/Reader, Ronald Peterson (The Dead Don't Die)/You, Ronnie Peterson/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Holds Two Nicely

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posting this from tumblr to AO3 has reminded me that I've yet to finish + post part two, so uh... I'll get on that. Also, Officer Ronnie Peterson is the Love Of My Fucking Life.
> 
> ················································
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr [@jynzandtonic!](jynzandtonic.tumblr.com) ʕ •ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

Ronnie doesn’t need to pick you up from work.

The bakery is only a few blocks over from your little bungalow; it’s a pleasant walk and a breeze of a bike ride.

Ronnie doesn’t need to pick you up from work, but he does. Every day. Whether he meets you on foot, on his retro mountain bike, or rolls up in the Smart Car, he’s always there. Because he wants to be.

You suppose it’s the same type of shit that modernist poets went on about—seemingly inconsequential, but somehow universal. Of all the grandiose ways to describe love, sometimes it’s clearest in these little shared domestic rituals. Maybe love can be as simple as just _showing up for someone, every day_.

Ronnie doesn’t need to pick you up from work, but he does. Because he likes to. And he _loves_ you.

And also because he gets to eat the pastries you accidentally fuck up while you prep for the next day.

Today he gets a couple of huckleberry hand pies that ended up a bit smaller than the rest of the batch, and he smiles like a little kid as he wolfs them down, folded into a cafe chair that makes his frame look even more preposterously large than usual.

“ _Thees ahrreally good,_ ” he says with a full mouth, staring at you adoringly.

“Sorry, what was that?” you tease, flicking off the lights in the kitchen and display cases.

Ronnie finishes chewing and brushes the crumbs off his police uniform as he stands. “I think that you’re too good at making these look nice. Not enough left over for me.”

“I’ll take that into consideration for the next batch.”

“You ready to head out, babe?” he gives his Star Destroyer keychain a twirl around his index finger, and you nod in response.

Before you make it to the door, he catches you by the waist and presses a soft kiss to your lips, jammy sweetness still lingering on his tongue when it slides against yours.

He opens the door for you. Just like he does every time. He doesn’t need to. But he likes to.

Streaks of coral and fuschia bisect the sky as you walk out into the evening air. “Sunset drive?” you ask.

“Yeah, sunset drive,” he grins.

It’s out of the way, the little loop you take, but it’s hard to pass up the opportunity to watch the horizon fade from cotton-candy to amaranth to inky blue behind the silhouette of the Oregon Cascades.

For such a minuscule chassis, you’ve gotta admit—the Smart Car is really quite spacious on the inside, even with the hood of the convertible closed like it is tonight. All six-foot-three of Ronnie has the head space _and_ the leg space he needs.

It does, in fact, ‘fit two nicely:’ you and him.

And he just looks so _darling_ with the last bit of evening light reflecting off his glasses, casting slight shadows on his dimples when he smiles, his hand heavy and warm where it rests on your thigh.

Your hand crosses over to his thigh, starting to play up and down the sharp crease in his slacks. “It’s getting dark, hm?”

Ronnie swallows thickly. “Oh, uh, yeah. Guess we should probably turn around soon.”

“No, no, let’s keep driving.” Your fingers creep higher on his thigh. _Ah, Ronnie dresses to the right._

He purses his lips and puffs out his cheeks when you find the outline of his cock, rubbing slowly with the heel of your palm. “Oh jeez, babe, I—” he drops his thought when you tug at his belt and undo the clasp and zipper of his pants.

Keeping your gaze ahead, entirely nonchalant, your hand slips into his trunks and untucks his hardening cock. Ronnie shudders in a breath as you stroke your fingertips up and down his shaft, teasingly light. The skin there is silky-soft and warm, tighter and smoother just underneath his well-defined head. Swiping your thumb over his slit, you find a slippery bead of precum and smear it around in slow, firm circles. You sigh happily.

Ronnie gulps audibly. “I, uh, think we should turn around. Head home.” He looks down to where you’ve started to lazily pump him, his impressive length now fully stiff in your hand.

He looks at you, back down at his dripping cock.

You lick your lips.

“Eyes on the road, Officer Peterson. Keep those hands at ten and two.”

“Uh, okay, I’ll _tr_ - _hyyy_ - _hyyyyy_ …” Your lips wrap around his plush, swollen tip.

He’s just a little salty-musky-sweet here from the precum he’s leaking, so you spend a moment lapping and swirling at his slit while you suck gently, your mouth growing wetter and wetter at the taste.

Holding him steady at the base, you keep your lips pressed tight to him as you pull off his head, kissing it sweetly before licking long, hot stripes up his shaft.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him, it’s always kind of a shock how fucking _big_ Ronnie is—how your fingers don’t come anywhere close to meeting when your hand is wrapped around his shaft, how you frequently have to stretch yourself with a toy before you can take him, how giving him head can be downright jawbreaking… but god, it feels so good. You just need him good and wet for it.

You suck at your cheeks, then let a slow dribble of spit fall from your lips to his tip, watching as it slowly drips down his length. “Jesus, Ronnie. Do you ever feel like your cock is just too fucking heavy to carry around all day?”

He almost huffs out a laugh, but it catches in his chest when you fist his shaft to slick it up with your spit. You part your lips into a soft ‘o’ and relax your jaw as best you can, letting your tongue cradle the side of his cock as you start to envelop him in the heat of your mouth.

You can hear Ronnie’s head smack against the headrest, and you’d smile if your lips weren’t stretched so tight around him.

His cock hits the back of your throat when you’re barely halfway down his length.

That’s when his foot jerks on the gas pedal and you feel the car reel forward, Ronnie swearing and panting as you take deep breaths through your nose, holding him as deep as you can go. You moan, letting the sound vibrate through him as you suck and tongue at a pronounced vein.

He’s managed to course-correct, but you know he’s still white-knuckling; his chest is heaving above you. You roll your lips over your teeth and start bobbing on his thick cock, setting a quick pace, shifting your head back and forth as you suck and slurp.

Ronnie swerves a little as you plunge down on him. “ _Jeesus_ babe-ohmy- _ohfuckinhell_ …”

_Mmmmmmmm_ , you groan, before popping off his cock with hollowed cheeks. Your lips linger on the sensitive, swollen flesh of his head as you grin. “I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you crash this stupid little car.”

“ _BABE_ , I— _aangghh_ , _ffffuckohchrist_ —shit this isss- _hnggh_ , okayshitthisishappening.” Ronnie does his absolute best to keep it together as you gag yourself on his cock again, bringing your fist below your mouth to pump in time with your thrusts.

You drag your lips up and down his stiff shaft faster and faster. Wet, juicy, obscene noises slosh through the car as Ronnie’s stuttered gasps grow sharper; you can feel him start to cant his hips up into you. _Oh, he’s a fucking goner._

It’s just a few more twists of your hand, a few more passes of your rough tongue and your slick, plump lips, sucking hard on the upstrokes—and you know your Ronnie can barely keep his eyes open with how hard he cums, a stifled yell tearing from his chest. Gush after gush of hot cum spurts into the back of your mouth, salty-sweet as you swallow and swallow and swallow him down.

You’d felt the car jerk and the buzz of rumble-strips as Ronnie had tipped over the edge… but everything seemed to be smooth sailing in the Smart Car as you gently cleaned up his sensitive cock—lapping up any cum that escaped your lips and softly kissing at his tip while his breathing slowed.

“Wow, babe, that was unbe—” He goes stiff as a board.

You tuck him back in his pants and sit up lightning fast when you see the first blue and red flash of lights, followed shortly by the _wooo-oooop_ of a police siren behind you.

Ronnie might look petrified as he signals to pull over, but you’re trying really, really hard not to laugh.

“Nice driving, Ronnie,” you whisper.

He looks at you with dinnerplate-eyes. “Oh my god! I’ve never been pulled over! What do I do!”

“Ronnie. _Ronnie_! Chill the fuck out. You’re a cop,” you giggle.

“Yeah…” he huffs.

“But zip up your pants.”

“Shit!” He fumbles with his zipper and button. You can see the police officer approaching in the rear-view mirror. “I was totally swerving! I went out of the lines!”

“Tell them you saw an animal or something.”

He looks at you, brows furrowed, but his head snaps back to the car window at the sound of a knock.

“Ohh, this isn’t gonna end well, (Y/N).”

“Shut up,” you laugh.

He rolls the window down and peeks out.

“O-oh! Hi, Chief!” Ronnie says sunnily, his boss looking down at him.

“Well good evening, Peterson. Nice to see you again today. Hello there, (Y/N).”

“Hey, Chief,” you wave. _Ah, life when you’re married to a small-town cop._

“I saw you swerve out of the lane back there—everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah! Of course! I saw a chipmunk. And I didn’t want to hit it,” Ronnie offers.

“A chipmunk?”

“Yeah. A real cute little one. Stripey tail. Ran right out in front of me.” Ronnie is pink as a peach, all the way to the tips of his ears.

You’re sure the Chief sees how puffy your lips are, how Ronnie’s shirt is wrinkled and mussed at the waist, how— _goddamnit, oops_ —his belt is still unbuckled.

“Um, uh, do you need my license and registration, Chief?”

“No, Ronnie, we’re all good here,” she says with a knowing smile. Peering between the two of you, she winks. “You two drive _safely_ , okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely, Chief—t-thanks!” Ronnie blurts.

“Thanks, Chief,” you grin.

“Peterson—” she raps the hood of the Smart Car cheerily with her knuckles, “—always good to see your better half.” She turns on her heel and walks back to the squad car.

Ronnie sighs out a long, slow breath as the Chief pulls away.

It’s then that you can’t hold in your laughter any longer. It bursts from your chest like a geyser, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as you clutch at your ribs.

“You’re gonna _pay_ for this.” Ronnie is grinning, eyes wolfish.

“Really.”

“Trying to tarnish my record. When we get home, you’re gonna fucking pay for this.”

“Am I.”

“Yup. And you’re driving back.”

“Oh, _come on_ , that shit I said about making you crash? I was _kidding_! And I’m not going to do it again… Well right now, at least.” You suppose this is his way of pouting about the pull-over.

“Driver’s seat. Now.”

You get out of the car, your path crossing with Ronnie’s in front of the headlights. He grips your jaw in one hand as he kisses you, the other kneading your ass and giving you a playful—but _sharp_ —spank. You whimper, and he smiles against your lips.

Once you’ve moved the driver’s seat forward… oh I dunno, a couple of _feet?_ to reach the pedals— _Christ, his legs are long_ —you flip a U-turn and start heading back towards town. But looking out at the road in front of you, you feel eyes on the side of your face.

“ _Watch out for animals in the road this time of night, babe,_ ” Ronnie whispers, working at the top button of your jeans.

**Author's Note:**

> ················································
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr [@jynzandtonic!](jynzandtonic.tumblr.com) ʕ •ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ 
> 
> [Buy me a whiskey?](ko-fi.com/jynzandtonic)
> 
> _No trigger is too small--ask me and I'll tag it!_
> 
> **A brief note on sex and gender:** I'm AFAB nonbinary, so I while I write for fem!reader (anatomy-wise) and I *do* have a soft spot for certain gendered pet names (which are always tagged if applicable), I hope there's enough space for folx at a variety of places on the gender spectrum to feel included in my fics xoxoxo.
> 
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